The words had weight. Heavy and unmistakably painful qualities which he couldn't take back. Words could also heal the damage, if well presented and truly meant. Roy knew that quite well. But he also knew there are broken things which cannot be fixed. So he ran because he couldn't live with consequences. He became wordless and determined. Thirsty for his freedom, but helplessly desperate to be part of something. So he became a hunter.
The hunters were homeless wanderers offering their knowledge to the various colonies. They were selling captured wild animals, meat and fur, but also were headhunters, peacekeepers. Anything which the farmers wouldn't do outside their walls, considered to be dangerous or time-consuming, they have passed on to the various groups of hunters. He didn't search long for a company to take him in. He was good with a knife and bow, had the body of a fighter, was strong but most of all he could care for himself in the wilderness.
It was eight years he travelled with the same company, their travels and tasks were a success, but lately, their leader chose the wrong colonies and the wrong jobs. Soon they were chased up north to the mountains, starved for a time, lost some people and had to spend all their earnings to find shelter. Normally they would be welcome in the colonies, to stay for a few weeks in the rough wheater, but Grand's poor attitude angered the farmers, so they had to pay the price of everything. The spring has come and they left their winter refuge only to realise Grand never learns. He planned to burn down the settlement for making them pay for the stay.
The company didn't agree with him. Roy raised concerns and challenged Grand. Unfortunately, Grand took it as an insult and attacked. Roy dodged and kicked him in the back. Grand's skull crushed in the fall on the rocky hillside. The relief spread amongst them. Some pat the winner of the discussion on the back. They carried the body from the rocky passage and made their camp in the near forest.
The night has fallen, and complete darkness covered the word. A small fire danced in the light wind, men sitting on logs around it, watching the flames as it could talk to them. The sky was cloudy moonlight barely shone through them, and no stars visible either. That's why they stopped, unable to navigate without them.
"He should know better!"Dorian a large brown haired man spoke up breaking the silence around the fire. His brown eyes were painted gold by the reflections of the flames. The men murmured in agreement. Dorian turned and spit into the darkness behind him. The body lying there wrapped in rags. Feets away two from the company was digging a hole. "You are not searching for treasure do ya?! If the dirt covers him it will be deep enough."
"I wouldn't dare to bury him in a shallow grave, he may crawl out of it and hunt us. The wicked soul he became. He wasn't a merciful one while alive, I don't expect he would become one after the way we got rid him."
"WE?!" Dorian laugh up laud."Flatter yourself Keith none, WE have nothing to do with his state. It was Roy who had the balls to end his wicked errands. But I suppose you are right to be scared, Grant wouldn't go for him, he would choose the easy prey."Dorian had a drink from a flask which was making rounds around the fire. Then stood and give it to Keith. Both men in the shallow grave had a sip, thanked and continue with the digging.
"So I assume, Roy you take charge now?" he turned to the fire and walked back to sit."Or does anyone know a better man for the job?"
"Why not you Dorian? You have the voice." A black haired man spoke up, his grey eyes shone from the dark suntanned face and growing black stubble, his stare was intense the lines of his face symmetrical. He was an impressive presence, with his deep calm voice.
